


The Eyes of 47th Street

by albinococonut23



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir, M/M, Murder Mystery, New York City, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albinococonut23/pseuds/albinococonut23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Private Detective Jun Matsumoto watches a red umbrella make its way through the night to his office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eyes of 47th Street

**Author's Note:**

> Written for imifumei in the je_otherworlds AU exchange on LJ. Set in New York, 1941. I spent a ridiculous amount of time researching particular street addresses on google maps. *sigh*

****

  
  
**1941\. Manhattan, New York  
  
516 West 47th Street, at the third floor office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.**  
  
  
It was raining; drenching the city with a haze of small droplets that lit up in the headlights of passing automobiles and shimmered in puddles on the pavement. It was getting late, and the few people still about were hurrying down the sidewalks with their umbrellas, rushing to be home and out of the weather. Private Detective Jun Matsumoto stared lazily past the rivulets of rainwater and the lettering on his office window, catching sight of and following the progress of a single, blood red, umbrella amongst the uniform black ones.  
  
“Look, Matsumoto.” The police sergeant sighed in exasperation with the detective’s obvious inattentiveness. “If you suspected Yokoyama was responsible for his wife’s disappearance, and if you knew where to look for her body, you should have contacted us first instead of going in on your own.”  
  
“Come now, Oguri.” Jun drawled, crossing his legs and leaning back in his desk chair with a grin. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”  
  
“Mrs. Yokoyama’s sister hired you to investigate her whereabouts-“  
  
“-Which I did.”  
  
“-, not apprehend her murderer. That’s not your job. The NYPD should have been called in to arrest him if you had a lead.”  
  
Jun rolled his eyes. “Shun. I _did_ call you.”  
  
“Yes. After the criminal had already been incapacitated.” The policeman frowned, and Jun shrugged. “You can’t do whatever you want just to try and gain some sort of fame or notoriety.”  
  
Jun clicked his tongue. “You think so highly of me.” He shook his head. “And what makes you so sure I didn’t do it in the name of justice, simply for the sake of putting a criminal behind bars?”  
  
“I _know_ you, Jun.” Oguri sighed. “You don’t risk your neck if there’s nothing in it for you.” His frown softened and his shoulders sagged. “Look, just keep us in the loop. _Because_ I know you so well, I don’t want you getting into any trouble you can’t squirm your way out of.” He put his cap back onto his head and turned for the door.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Jun grinned at his back. “I won’t.”  
  
Oguri grunted disbelievingly and opened the door, pausing to nod curtly at the man standing on the other side. “Evening, Satoshi.”  
  
“Evening, Sergeant.” Jun’s partner echoed, slipping into the room once the police sergeant had passed. He smiled crookedly, letting a cigarette dangle from his lips as he slouched against the wall and regarded Jun from beneath the brim of his fedora. “He gave you a good scolding?”  
  
Jun chuckled. “A warning. They’re sore about being left out.”  
  
“And no ‘thank you’ for any of our work?”  
  
“Course not.” Jun stretched and sighed. “It’s late, you want to call it a night?”  
  
“There’s someone here to see us, I believe. A flashy fellow.”  
  
Jun raised his eyebrows. “Well, send him in.”  
  
Satoshi nodded and poked his head back out the open office door. “Come on in, Mr. Aiba.”  
  
“Thank you.” Came a warm, breathy, voice, followed by the speaker. He was sharply dressed in a green tweed overcoat, dark slacks, and shined shoes. His hair was brown and wavy; it curled about his ears and hung in his eyes in a wild, roguish manner that could have been attributed to the wind and damp weather, but was probably intentional. “My name’s Masaki Aiba.” He spoke again as he reached Jun’s desk and outstretched a hand to clasp with the detective’s in a firm shake.  
  
“I’m Detective Jun Matsumoto, this is my partner Detective Satoshi Ohno.” Jun greeted as Satoshi shut the door and made his way over. “What brings you to our office?”  
  
“I heard you two were some of the best on the West Side. Word on the street is that you solved a murder recently, didn’t you?”  
  
Ohno chuckled, and Jun gestured for the man to take a seat across from him. “What can we help you with? If it’s a murder, you’re better off talking to the police.”  
  
“No, no. Not a murder.” Aiba sat on the edge of the chair, appearing tense despite the bright smile on his face. He hooked the handle of his umbrella on the arm of the chair, and Jun noted that it was bright red. “You see… I’ve noticed that I’m being followed lately. Everywhere I go.” He fiddled with the damp sleeve of his coat. “I was hoping you could help me.”  
  
“Were you followed here?” Satoshi asked, crossing to the window.  
  
“No, I think I lost him on the way.”  
  
“So you know it’s a man.” Jun crossed his arms, regarding the young man’s handsome features and the fear in his doe-like eyes. “Have you seen his face?”  
  
Aiba shook his head. “I’ve only seen him from a distance. He’s got dark hair. Usually wears a dark coat, and a hat… I guess that’s not really helpful. I live in the Garment District, 328 West 44th street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenue. If you watch me going to and from my apartment at all, you’ll see him for certain.”  
  
Jun hummed thoughtfully. Aiba’s clothes were stylish and colorful, to the point of being almost flamboyant, but his cuffs were a little worn with wear. “What do you do for a living?”  
  
“I-… Well, I’m an actor.”  
  
“An actor?” Satoshi frowned and came back to perch on the edge of Jun’s desk. “Have you been in any recent pictures?”  
  
“No, at least not in anything that wasn’t a very minor role. I’ve done a bit of Off-Broadway theater, but not as a lead.”  
  
“That’s too bad.” Satoshi mused.  
  
“My luck’s looking up though. I managed to get a supporting role in a picture. I did the audition almost a month ago, and I thought they’d already cast everyone, but turns out they were held up for some reason. Near three weeks went by, and then out of the blue I got a call.” He beamed. “Filming started last week, and it’s going well.”  
  
Jun sat up straighter. “And you’ve been followed just since you accepted this part?”  
  
“Well… yes.” Aiba frowned. “But like I said, I’m not famous enough to have any obsessed fans chasing me around. Hardly anybody has ever taken notice of me. I was shocked when I got the call-back…”  
  
“You’re telling me you _never_ get noticed?” Jun grinned. “With a pretty-boy face like that?”  
  
Aiba flushed. “Honest. I came to New York from Chicago less than three years ago, so I’m still a newcomer. I haven’t had time to build even a _small_ fan base.”  
  
“That may be so, but I’m not ruling out some kind of connection, Mr. Aiba.”  
  
“…Does that mean you’ll take the case?” Aiba asked hopefully, leaning forward in his chair.  
  
Jun pursed his lips thoughtfully. “How badly do you want our help?”  
  
Aiba paused for a moment, bewildered. “Terribly!” He decided, eyes going a little wider with anxiety. “I’m scared to leave my apartment, and yet afraid to stay in it when he’s watching outside too… You will help me won’t you?”  
  
Satoshi smiled crookedly and pulled the remains of his cigarette from his lips to stub it out in the ashtray on the desk. “He’s asking what price you’re willing to pay us, Mr. Aiba.”  
  
“Oh…” Aiba breathed, and then reached into his coat for his wallet. He frowned at its contents. “I can pay you one hundred. I’m assuming you want it up front?”  
  
“A hundred?” Jun raised an eyebrow.  
  
Aiba glanced between the two detectives before sagging in his seat. “Fine, and another fifty once the job is done. But that’s really all I can afford, Detectives.”  
  
Jun nodded, standing and reaching out to shake their newest client’s hand for the second time. “Get home safely, Mr. Aiba. Go about your usual business, but try not to put yourself anywhere isolated just in case this guy tries something. Detective Ohno and I will investigate over the course of the next couple days and see what we turn up.”  
  
“Thank you.” Aiba smiled with clear relief and picked up his vibrant red umbrella. “Oh, and I’ll give you my card.” He pulled one out of his wallet and passed it over. “My phone number’s on there if you need to reach me.”  
  
Jun pocketed the card. “We’ll be in touch.”  
  
Satoshi walked ahead and opened the door to the small waiting area. The secretary had already gone home for the evening. “Have a nice night, Mr. Aiba.” He bid, seeing him off and then proceeding to flick off lights and check the locks.  
  
Jun stood at the window and watched the receding back of a figure huddle beneath a red umbrella, as if it would shield him from both the rain and the dark shadows of the night.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Masaki Aiba spent most of the next two days keeping busy. Maybe his behavior stemmed from a fear of being in one place for too long, which was reasonable when he had –not one, but- three people tailing him almost everywhere he went. In the morning he got up, hair still tousled from sleep, and made his way East to Bryant Park for a short jog, and then he spent around an hour in the public library, pouring over books and articles that pertained to either dogs or psychic abilities. His routine was then to pick up a coffee from a nearby café, wander around Times Square and past some of the theaters both off and on Broadway to see what shows were playing, grab lunch at a ratty pub near his apartment building, and then buy groceries from a shop a block over. He’d take them home, and then disappear within his house for a few hours. On the first night he went out for another walk in the evening, along with some friends and their dogs, and on the second night he met some of the same friends and went to see a musical. On both nights he returned to his apartment after dark and didn’t reappear until morning. The lights behind his closed curtains were shut off at about eleven on both occasions.  
  
On both of these days, Matsumoto and Ohno spent as much time following him around as they could, whether together or in shifts, and by the second night they could safely determine that Masaki Aiba _was_ being followed by a stranger.  
  
Actually, they had caught on to him before the first day was out, but he’d noticed the two detectives on his tail and disappeared. The second day they’d lied lower, and the mysterious man had reappeared in the shadows of Aiba’s footsteps, and not shown any signs of suspicion with regards to his own pursuers.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **At the corner of West 44th Street and Eighth Avenue.**  
  
  
The air was clear and cool, and the shadows were long. Lounging on the street corner, just out of sight, Jun and Satoshi kept an eye on the automobile parked across from number 328. It was impossible to tell what the figure seated inside was doing, but they hadn’t seen him leave the vehicle, or at least he hadn’t dared try and cross the street beneath the light cast by a streetlamp.  
  
“What’s the plan?” Satoshi drawled, impatient with sticking to the shadows. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and scuffed his shoes on the sidewalk. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. He just sits there. All night.” He shook his head derisively. “Can we just walk up and demand to know what he’s up to?”  
  
Jun frowned at the rough idea, but then nodded. “Fine. You ask him.”  
  
“You’re not coming?” Satoshi’s brow furrowed.  
  
Jun nudged his partner towards the street. “I’ll cover you.”  
  
Jun clung to the deepest shadows that fell at the base of the buildings while his partner approached the parked car with a purposefully confident swagger in his step. Satoshi noticed that the vehicle was empty upon reaching it; a minute after Jun had already realized the same. Jun watched Satoshi tense and reach towards the revolver in his belt, but not before a figure stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the same stairwell Jun was crouched behind.  
  
“Don’t move.” The noise of a revolver’s hammer being cocked sounded loud in the quiet night. Ohno obeyed the order and put his hands up warily, listening to slow footsteps approaching him from behind. The man’s features were hidden by the shadows cast by his black fedora, but he was unmistakably the man they’d been following all day. “Who are you, and what do you want?”  
  
“That depends on what you want with Masaki Aiba.” Jun spoke up, standing from his hiding spot with his .38 Special cartridge, S &W Victory model cocked and raised. “What are you after?”  
  
Satoshi turned around, arms still raised, to face the man behind him. Jun caught a flash of wide eyes as the man glanced between them warily, shoulders tense. “… You won’t get away with this…”  
  
“With what?” Jun quirked an eyebrow.  
  
“With… whatever you’re planning to do to me.”  
  
“Why? Are you working for someone?”  
  
The mystery man’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “…This is a residential neighborhood. If you shoot me, someone will hear and call the police.”  
  
Jun snorted. “That’s true, and we wouldn’t want any residents peeking out of their windows and being frightened by our standoff either. Put away your gun.”  
  
The man’s hand tightened on his revolver’s handle. He didn’t lower it. “I won’t go out without a fight.”  
  
“You’re not going anywhere.” Jun affirmed. “We want to talk to you, but I’d rather not cause a scene. If someone sees us and calls the police, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”  
  
Satoshi nodded. “Save yourself the trip and explain to us.”  
  
The man was silent for a moment. He looked between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have trouble with the police?” He paused again. “…Who are you two?”  
  
“Why are you following Mr. Aiba?”  
  
The man tensed angrily. “To protect him from people like you.”  
  
“Like us?” Satoshi frowned.  
  
“That should be our line.” Jun drawled. “Why? Why’s he so special to you?”  
  
“He isn’t. I don’t know the man. I was just hired to keep an eye on him, so he doesn’t get himself killed.”  
  
“Killed? Someone’s trying to kill him?”  
  
The man shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy who hired me was concerned that something bad might befall him, but he didn’t say whether or not it’d be murder or just an accident.” He sighed. “This Aiba seems like a bit of an airhead, I spend half my time afraid he’s going to trip down a flight of stairs or leave his stove on at night.”  
  
“Who are you?” Jun pressed.  
  
The man shook his head irritably. “No, that should be  _my_ line. I’m trying to protect someone, and you guys start following him around and pulling guns on me in the middle of the night. I’m the one who should be suspicious of you.”  
  
Jun rolled his eyes and pulled his license out of his pocket. “Private detective Jun Matsumoto. Mr. Aiba hired us to investigate the creepy guy that’s been following him around all week.”  
  
“I’m Jun’s partner, Satoshi Ohno.” Satoshi smiled. “I’d show you my license too, but it’s in the inside pocket of my coat, and I don’t want to get shot.”  
  
The man examined Jun’s license with a shrewd gaze before relaxing and lowering his firearm. “I won’t shoot.” He said, tucking it back in the holster at his belt. Satoshi let his arms fall and chuckled with relief.  
  
“Good to hear.” Jun lowered his as well, but he kept it in hand. “Mind telling us who _you_ are, stranger?”  
  
The man tipped his hat back on his head, revealing defined features and soft eyes. He looked overworked, but hardly criminal. “My name is Toma Ikuta. I work on contract as a Certified Security Agent.” He too reached into his coat and presented the detectives with a license.  
  
“And you’re protecting Mr. Aiba’s well-being without his knowledge?”  
  
Toma nodded. “My employer requested I be secretive, but I guess Mr. Aiba’s got more of a clue than I would have guessed.”  
  
Satoshi smirked. “Any idea why this employer of yours didn’t want Aiba to know he was worried about him?”  
  
“Said he didn’t want Mr. Aiba to be unnecessarily frightened.”  
  
“Well,” Jun scoffed. “That didn’t go as planned.”  
  
“Evidently not.” Toma grumbled.  
  
“Who is this mysterious employer?” Satoshi questioned with a frown. “What’s his connection to Masaki Aiba?”  
  
Toma frowned. “I can’t reveal that. It’s confidential.”  
  
Jun sighed. “Come on, give us a break here.”  
  
“He didn’t want Aiba to know I was following him. He definitely doesn’t want Aiba to know who hired me to do so.”  
  
“Then we won’t tell Aiba.” Satoshi stated bluntly. “We _do_ need to get to the bottom of this. Our pay for this investigation is on the line if we don’t.”  
  
Toma’s frown deepened. “And my pay for this job is on the line if I give you my employer’s name so you can interrogate him.”  
  
Jun clicked his tongue. “You failed to tail Aiba unnoticed. I think your pay is _already_ on the line. If your employer is at all closely connected to Aiba, he’s bound to hear that he knows he’s being followed. Just give us a name.”  
  
Toma scowled for a long moment before grumbling an answer. “Sho Sakurai.”  
  
Ohno scrunched his face up thoughtfully. “…Name’s familiar.”  
  
“What’s the connection to Mr. Aiba?”  
  
“He’s some up-and-coming big shot. Owns a production company in Chelsea.” He sighed. “Masaki Aiba has a part in the latest picture he’s throwing together.”  
  
“Strange…” Ohno took his hat off and ran his fingers through the choppy hair on his head. “Does he keep such a close eye on all of his actors?”  
  
Toma shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m only concerned with protecting the person I was told to. He didn’t mention anyone else.”  
  
Jun considered this for a long minute while the security agent shifted impatiently.  
  
“If that’s all, detectives… I don’t know what other information I can give you.”  
  
Jun nodded curtly. “We’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for cooperating.” He shook Toma’s hand and turned back down the street.  
  
Ohno smiled crookedly. “And for not shooting me.” He tipped his hat and hurried after his partner’s brisk steps.  
  
Jun’s black 1937 Plymouth DeLuxe was parked around the corner, paint gleaming dully under the light of a flickering streetlamp. “I’ll drive you home.” Jun said, getting into the driver’s seat.  
  
Satoshi got in once the passenger door was unlocked. “So,” He said as Jun turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life with a deep rumble, “what’s the plan now?”  
  
Jun pulled away from the curb with ease. There weren’t many other cars on the road at that hour, and the streets seemed almost eerily quiet compared the clogged lanes normal seen in the daytime. “Tomorrow, we find the address of that production company. I’m keen on talking to Mr. Sakurai as soon as possible.”  
  
Satoshi’s lips quirked and he turned to the window. “Yes, sir.” He said, watching the golden glow of streetlamps pass them by. “So am I.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **537 West 20th Street, on the third floor of the ‘Landscape I’m Seeing’ Productions Studio.**  
  
  
At the top of the stairs on the uppermost level of the building, there was a small reception area. A couple of chairs and a potted plant were set alongside the railing, and there were four, closed, wooden doors set into the whitewashed walls. Three led to offices, and the fourth to a washroom. A cluttered desk sat in the middle of the reception room, and the receptionist’s chair behind it was empty.  
  
The two detectives stood around in the middle of the empty room for a few minutes. No office doors opened, and no receptionist appeared.  
  
“…Now what?” Satoshi asked, fingering a leaf on the plant and listening to Jun tap his foot impatiently. “Maybe we should have called before showing up unannounced. They could be shooting on location today, or something.”  
  
Jun made an annoyed noise and uncrossed his arms. “Or Mr. Sakurai is very unorganized, and needs to hire better help.” He strode purposely towards the door set in the far wall. The name plaque on its wooden surface read Sho Sakurai’s name in bold text. “Come on, I’m not leaving until we’re sure he’s not here.”  
  
“Jun, you probably shouldn’t just-“  
  
Jun knocked sharply on the door and promptly tried the knob. It turned, and he swung the door open. “Mr. Sakurai, I-“ He stopped dead, eyebrows rising as the two people in the room sprang apart in alarm –one shoving the other aside and nearly throwing himself off of the desk he’d been sitting on. Satoshi tiptoed to peer curiously over Jun’s shoulder, and quickly mirrored his surprised expression. “…I’m sorry to intrude so suddenly.” Jun finished. “I’m Private Detective Matsumoto, and this is Private Detective Ohno. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”  
  
“I…” The man standing behind the desk started, frowning and red-faced. His tie hung loose around his neck, and he tightened it self-consciously. There was a gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. “My receptionist-?“  
  
“Isn’t here, Mr. Sakurai.” Jun answered, sure that the clean-cut man could be none other than the company’s owner. Jun wasn’t corrected.  
  
“She’s still on her lunch break, Mr. Sakurai, Sir.” Said the shorter man standing to Sakurai’s right, the one who’d previously been seated atop the desk. His hair was a mess, lips slightly swollen, and shirt partially un-tucked from his trousers. As the detectives’ gazes moved to him, he flushed with embarrassment and began gathering a stack of loose papers in his arms.  
  
“Uh, this is Kazunari Ninomiya. My personal assistant.” Sakurai introduced awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck.  
  
“’Assistant’, huh.” Jun echoed, barely hiding a smirk.  
  
Ninomiya nearly dropped his papers, and the redness of his cheeks and ears intensified. “I’ll, um… get in touch with the wardrobe people…” He bowed his head and hustled out, looking completely mortified.  
  
An awkward pause occurred before Sakurai cleared his throat. “Um, please Detectives. Sit.” He gestured to the chairs in front of the desk and sat in his own across from them.  
  
Satoshi caught Jun’s sleeve as he made for the chair. “If you’re okay on your own, I’ll talk to the assistant.”  
  
Jun nodded, and Sakurai watched Satoshi go before fixing Jun with an uncertain smile. “…What can I help you with, Detective Matsumoto?”  
  
“What can you tell me about your new movie -particularly about the celebrities starring in it?”  
  
Sakurai raised an eyebrow. “Are you Private Eyes investigating on the behalf of tabloids now? They’re getting _you_ to do their dirty work?”  
  
“ _Everyone_ gets me to do their dirty work -that’s how this business is-, but no, I’m not here for gossip.”  
  
“Then what _are_ you here for? I’ll tell you about the film’s plot, characters, concepts… Anything but spoil the ending. What do you want to hear?”  
  
“You’re a producer, correct?”  
  
“And a director, for this film.”  
  
“How well do you treat your actors?”  
  
Sakurai paused, and a slight crease formed between his brows. “…Has there been a complaint, Detective?”  
  
“Not exactly, I’m just intrigued.” He crossed his legs and pouted thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mr. Sakurai. What is Masaki Aiba to you?”  
  
Sakurai frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that… He’s an actor in this production.”  
  
“He’s relatively inexperienced though, isn’t he? And you’re giving him a pretty big role. Supporting male lead, right?”  
  
“He’s a newcomer, but he has potential. Is it wrong to try and give someone with talent a break in this industry?”  
  
“No, of course not. I’ve met him, so I know where you’re coming from. He’s tall, but he’s cute.” Jun smirked and jerked a thumb towards the door Satoshi and the assistant had passed through minutes earlier. “You have a thing for cute men, right?”  
  
Sakurai’s expression turned quietly murderous. “If you’re going to make ridiculous accusations-“  
  
“I’m not accusing, I’m just inquiring.”  
  
The producer’s nostrils flared. “ _Insinuations_ , then. I won’t stand for it.”  
  
“If I’m wrong,” Jun continued calmly, “then why give Aiba special treatment?”  
  
“I told you already, Detective. He has talent as an actor and potential to go places in this industry. I am _not_ giving him ‘special treatment’.”  
  
“You deny treating him differently from the other actors in this production?”  
  
“I do.” Sakurai fumed.  
  
“Then is it only the leading roles in your films that you secretly assign security to? Or do you splurge and hire bodyguards to follow _every single one_ of your cast members?” Jun blinked innocently, observing the fire draining from Sakurai’s features. “I’m curious, really. You must be a very generous man. That can’t be a small expense.”  
  
“… How did you hear about this?” He asked quietly, voice and expression cold. “A guard?”  
  
“Oh, no.” Jun shook his head. “Aiba, actually. He was concerned that he was being followed, and asked us to investigate. A bit of snooping around your boy Ikuta and we traced him back to you. Aiba doesn’t know about what we found yet, though. I wanted to hear the whole story.”  
  
“Meaning…?”  
  
“Is it just Aiba?”  
  
Sakurai shook his head. “All four of my leads.”  
  
“You’re _that_ paranoid that they’ll come to harm? This must be costing you a fair bit.”  
  
“Yes, but if something bad did happen, I’d be out a _lot_ more money. Finding replacement actors for large roles is a huge setback, especially on short notice.”  
  
“A small expense to avoid a bigger one… So it all comes down to money, then?”  
  
Sakurai smirked. “That’s the nature of _my_ business, Detective.”  
  
“Mine isn’t that different, actually.” Jun pointed out. “So I trust you’ll understand if I tell Mr. Aiba about your paranoia? I have to close the case to get my pay, after all.”  
  
“Of course.” Sakurai said thinly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have scenes to shoot this afternoon if I’m going to stay on schedule.”  
  
Jun stood and let Sakurai escort him from the office. In the reception room, Ninomiya and Satoshi were deep in a serious conversation. The assistant leaned back against the side of the receptionist’s desk, and Satoshi was leaning forward with his palms resting on the desk surface. The detective said something, smiled lazily, and Ninomiya grinned back along with something that resembled a giggle.  
  
“Nino.” Sakurai said sharply, and his assistant nearly jumped out of his skin before whipping around with wide eyes.  
  
“S-Sir! You’re done your meeting-?”  
  
“Did you make that phone call?” He snapped, clearly still edgy from his discussion.  
  
“No, sorry. I was talking to Detective-“  
  
“Just hurry.” The producer heaved an irritated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be late for the 2:30 shoot.”  
  
“Right, I’ll do that right away Mr. Sakurai.” Ninomiya rushed into the smallest office connected to the reception room.  
  
“Satoshi, we should let them work.” Jun spoke up, walking towards the stairs. On the way down, he recounted his conversation with the producer.  
  
Satoshi followed close on his heels, listening silently until they reached the light of the street outside. “… So do you think that’s it, or is there more he wasn’t saying?”  
  
Jun turned to him, squinting into the bright light of the outdoors after the dim lighting in the stairwell. “Definitely. He got far too defensive when I said I knew Aiba was being followed. The switch was too sudden.” He nodded confidently, squinting up at the windows of the third floor. “There’s something he’s hiding, and I want to know what.”  
  
Satoshi hummed agreeably, beginning to stroll down the sidewalk. “Ninomiya seems like he’s got a secret too.”  
  
“That he’s probably sleeping with his boss?” Jun questioned with a smirk. “Not really a secret anymore…”  
  
Satoshi made an amused noise. “Maybe, but he could also know what’s really going on. He didn’t want to talk about Sakurai at all. Kept changing the subject.” He shrugged thoughtfully. “I gave him my card, in case he had information to give us later on.”  
  
“Good idea. I would have done the same with Sakurai, except he’s probably hoping he never has to deal with us again.”  
  
Ohno chuckled. “Well, I can’t wait to disappoint him.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **Washington Square Park, at the North entrance.**  
  
  
As they passed through the Washington Arch, it was obvious that their tip about the day’s filming location had been correct. Crew members were everywhere, setting up equipment or getting extras ready.  
  
“Detectives!” Aiba exclaimed, catching sight of them as they approached. His wide smile was as disarmingly charming as usual, even if his shirt was tattered and his suspenders were barely holding up his dirt and paint smudged trousers. Three shaggy dogs swarmed around him, jumping and licking, tails wagging furiously. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”  
  
Jun smiled. Two days ago, the evening after they’d barged in on Sho Sakurai, he’d paid Aiba a visit and told him the apparent truth behind his follower. The actor had been overjoyed that his boss cared so much about his participation in the film. He hadn’t been even the least bit concerned about the basis for the paranoia. Since the revelation, however, Aiba had insisted that Toma no longer be sneaky about his surveillance. Even there on the set, the security agent was standing only a couple yards away, near the fountain.  
  
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Aiba.”  
  
“Did you just come to visit?” Aiba laughed, trying to keep the dogs from leaping all over the two detectives. “If you want to watch the filming, they’re letting observers stand over there.” He pointed to the left. “Out of the camera’s shot.”  
  
“Thanks.” Satoshi spoke up, reaching down to scratch behind one of the canines’ ears. “…The dogs are part of the film?”  
  
Aiba nodded. “My character, Tommy, is a really quiet artist. In the script he’s pale and sickly looking. But I guess they didn’t mind my suntan after all.” He chuckled. “I was surprised when they told me what character I was because I don’t really look like the character description at all, but I like dogs! Tommy can understand and communicate with dogs. Telepathically.”  
  
Satoshi raised an eyebrow. “…Seriously?”  
  
Aiba laughed. “Yeah. I end up getting caught up in an undercover police investigation to do with a gang. I get kidnapped later on!” He announced excitedly.  
  
“Good for you.” Satoshi chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”  
  
“Is Mr. Sakurai around?” Jun questioned, running his eyes through the crowd.  
  
“He should be…” Aiba frowned, also glancing around the area. “I saw Nino earlier, he was running around trying to sort out some miscommunication with the camera crew.” He shrugged. “I don’t know where he went, but if he’s here then Mr. Sakurai is probably nearby.”  
  
“They’re always together, huh?” Satoshi mused. “Do you think it’s weird that they’re so close?”  
  
“Close?...” Aiba considered this. “He’s Sakurai’s assistant, but I heard he’s been working for him for years. Maybe they’re friends too?”  
  
“Maybe.” Jun conceded. “Have you heard anything else of interest about either of them?”  
  
“Um… for example?”  
  
“Any accidents that happened during productions in the past?”  
  
Aiba frowned, deep in thought, and Satoshi shot his partner a curious look. “…No, sorry. I didn’t hear about anything like that. I’m new though, so you’d be better off asking anyone else. Even the other people working on a ‘Landscape’ film for the first time have been here longer than I have.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Satoshi said thoughtfully. “You said you were cast weeks after everyone else was.”  
  
Jun’s brow furrowed as he recalled their first meeting with the actor. “Hold on… You said it was because something held production up, correct?”  
  
Aiba nodded, looking confused. “Yes. That’s what I was told.”  
  
“Were you told _why_?”  
  
He shook his head. “No, why?” He frowned, looking anxiously between the two detectives. “Should I be concerned?”  
  
“We need to talk to Sakurai.” Jun growled, nudging his partner towards the crowd of bustling crewmembers. “Good luck with the shoot today, Mr. Aiba. Excuse us.”  
  
They found the producer on the other side of the fountain, conversing with some crewmembers about the angle of the lighting equipment.  
  
“Sir, the extras are in position and ready to start.” Ninomiya called, slipping out of the crowd and falling into place beside his boss.  
  
“Good.” Sakurai replied distractedly. “Get Masaki and Takuya over here. We’re behind schedule.”  
  
“Yes, Sir.” Ninomiya spun around and then stopped abruptly in surprise. “…Detectives?”  
  
Sakurai turned around too and scowled. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Mr. Sakurai, I’d like to talk to you for a moment. I hope you’ll be cooperative.”  
  
“I don’t have time for this right now, Detective. You’re going to hold up production.”  
  
“And that would be such a terrible waste of expenses, am I right?” Jun mused.  
  
“And daylight.” Sakurai growled. “Excuse me, but bystanders need to go behind the barricade over there.”  
  
“Sure, I hear you’ve already encountered a setback in this production. I wouldn’t want to _further_ inconvenience you.”  
  
“…How considerate of you, Detective.” Sakurai gestured for them to move aside, smiling wryly.  
  
“One question,” Jun continued, strolling leisurely out of the way at the producer’s direction. “Who was the original Tommy?”  
  
Sakurai froze. “…I beg your pardon?”  
  
“Masaki Aiba may have acting potential, but he wasn’t your first pick for the role, was he?” Jun stated, going out on a limb. Many of the crew and cast members around them looked uncomfortable, Ninomiya had gone pale, and Sakurai’s features might have well been turned to stone. “Who was supposed to be Tommy, and what happened to him?”  
  
“… Ryo was his first name.” Spoke one of the cameramen when everyone else was silent. Sakurai’s gaze flickered to him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move or say anything to stop the man. “He died just a few days after we gave him the role. Poor fellow.”  
  
"Died?" Aiba spoke up quietly, looking shocked as he stepped up behind the detectives.  
  
Jun frowned, ignoring the actor's appearance and focusing on the cameraman. “How?”  
  
“It was a mugging, I heard. He left the studio late one night and got jumped while he was walking home.”  
  
Aiba covered his mouth in dismay, many of the other crew members looked equally disturbed.  
  
“Ryo who?” Jun demanded. “What was his surname?”  
  
The cameraman frowned and then shrugged. “I can’t remember… I only worked with him one day, for a couple hours.”  
  
“Nishikido.” Sakurai spoke up icily. “He was a good kid. Could have been a star someday. Now, if you’re done prying into upsetting business, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” There was a clear warning in his tone.  
  
Jun didn’t move, and it took Satoshi’s firm grip on his arm to snap him out of the staring match with the producer. “Come on, Jun. I think we got what we came for.”  
  
After a brief, tense, hesitation, Jun allowed Satoshi to lead him out of the park. “Why didn’t he mention this before, when I asked him why he was so paranoid?” He grumbled under his breath as they walked briskly up 5th Avenue. “He didn’t want us to know, that’s why. The question is what his _reason_ is for hiding it… We’re going to have to investigate-“  
  
“Jun.” Satoshi interrupted gently, fixing him with a curious expression. “What’s gotten into you? Mr. Aiba isn’t paying us to investigate anymore. You know you’ve never worked a case that had nothing in it for you.”  
  
Jun cracked a smirk and cocked his head. “… Well, we already snooped around, it’d look bad if there turns out to be something bigger beneath the surface that we just skimmed over and let lie. Also, Sho Sakurai is infuriating.”  
  
“So, what you’re getting out of this is the satisfaction of your own curiosity, and a better reputation in the Private Eye business?”  
  
“Pretty much.”  
  
Satoshi considered this and then shrugged. “Sounds okay to me.”  
  
“Good. Now, I figure we’ve got to investigate the circumstances of Ryo Nishikido’s death if we want to get anywhere with this.”  
  
“You’re saying you _don’t_ think he was mugged?”  
  
“I think it’s suspicious.” Jun clarified.  
  
“So we might have another surprise murder mystery on our hands.” Satoshi mused, sounding vaguely bewildered. “We stumble into these often lately…”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **306 West 54th Street, at the NYPD’s 18th Precinct.**  
  
  
“You know, I’m doing you a favor by getting you access to these files.” Sergeant Oguri reminded him, slapping a folder down onto the table in front of Jun. The boardroom was otherwise empty. The door was shut and the blinds were drawn, but the low murmur of New York’s finest still at work could be heard through the walls.  
  
“Thanks, Shun.” Jun said genuinely. “I know you are.” He opened the folder and squinted at the short report typed onto the first sheet of paper.  
  
“There’s not much on this case, though. Looks like just another mugging with a bad ending.” Oguri perched on the edge of the table, watching the private detective study the paperwork. “His body was found in an alley beside an empty warehouse. It was about two blocks from the studio he was working at. He was on his way home, probably.”  
  
“…People saw him leave by himself?”  
  
The sergeant nodded. “Two colleagues both said he left at a little after ten.”  
  
“Just two?”  
  
“They were the only other people there. Everyone else had gone home earlier.”  
  
Jun frowned and flipped the page. “Who were these colleagues?”  
  
Oguri turned the next page and jabbed a finger at the text. “Names are there, along with their accounts.”  
  
The bold lettered names stood out on the page. Sho Sakurai and Kazunari Ninomiya.  
  
 _[ That evening I was going over the filming schedule with Kazunari, in my office. Nishikido knocked at a few minutes past ten, stuck his head in, and said he was going to call it a night. I reminded him to come in for noon the next day, and he probably left right after that. I didn’t hear what happened to him until the following afternoon. ]_  
  
Sakurai was described in the report as being solemn but composed as he gave his account. Whereas Ninomiya, who had roughly the same story to tell, had been clearly shaken by the news and interrogation.  
  
“There was nothing suspicious about either of them.” Oguri pointed out, watching Jun re-read the page. “Their stories matched up, and other people who had been in the building and left earlier also said that the two of them had been working on something in Sakurai’s office. Nishikido had stayed behind to continue working on his lines when everyone else left.”  
  
Jun put the accounts aside and was faced with a collection of photographs of the body and alley where it was found. Nishikido was dark haired, pale skinned, and dotted with moles. His eyes were left open, his lip was split and bloody, and his skin was covered in abrasions and dark bruises. There was a matted, bloody, patch in the hair on the back of his head, and on the column of his throat were the purpling bruises clearly left by two hands. In another photo, his wallet was shown discarded a couple yards away. There was no cash left in it.  
  
“… This was brutal.”  
  
Oguri nodded gravely. “The doctor that looked at the body said he had a cracked rib, a fracture in his skull, and internal bleeding from the beating he must have taken. Cause of death was strangulation though.” He pointed out. “Looks like the attacker tried to knock him out with a hit to the head first, but the kid still fought back. There was dried blood under his nails, but we couldn’t get any clear fingerprints off of him.”  
  
Jun considered this. “So the police have no leads, in other words.”  
  
“People get mugged in this city. It’s a fairly random act of violence, and if the victim doesn’t survive it’s hard to track the criminal down.” Oguri reasoned, though he didn’t look pleased. “Nishikido was alone late at night, in a dark and pretty deserted area, and he was dressed well. He would have been an obvious target.”  
  
“I’m guessing you don’t have the body?”  
  
The sergeant stood and shook his head. “We released it to his family once the medical examiner was done.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Oguri called.  
  
“Sergeant,” Said the uniformed officer upon opening the door. “Got a woman here with a necklace she bought Monday. Looks like the jewelry that was stolen last week.”  
  
Oguri perked up. “Get her a seat at my desk, and a coffee if she’d like one. I’ll be there in a minute.”  
  
The officer nodded and left.  
  
“I’ll get going.” Jun announced, quickly running his eyes over the photographs again to try and commit them to memory. “Thanks for your help.”  
  
Oguri frowned as Jun got to his feet. “…What exactly am I helping you with, Jun? It’s unlike you to come to me with any of your investigations.”  
  
Jun shrugged. “You said I should keep you in the loop if I’m dealing with a murder.”  
  
“You’re trying to catch the mugger? Good luck, but there were no leads…”  
  
Jun nodded, and set his hat on his head. “I’m trying to catch Nishikido’s killer.”  
  
“… You say it like there’s a difference. You’re telling me it _wasn’t_ a mugging?” The sergeant demanded, scowling, and Jun smirked and walked to the door.  
  
“Didn’t say that, necessarily.” Jun corrected, stepping out into the bustle of the precinct.  
  
“If you suspect anything you had better let me know _now_ , Detective.” Oguri warned, watching the man weave across the room. Jun just raised his arm and waved, not even bothering to turn around. “Matsumoto!” Oguri barked in frustration, but the detective was already turning out of sight.  
  
Jun’s brow was creased deeply as he strode down the sidewalk of West 54th. He ran through the images still fresh in his mind, and his fingers clenched tight around the keys in his pocket at the gruesome state the young actor’s body had been left in. It wasn’t until he was sitting in his car, the doors locked and his hand hesitating to turn the key in the ignition, that he came to a grim conclusion.  
  
Ryo Nishikido’s death had been too vicious to be done by an average mugger. In fact, Jun doubted he’d been killed for the cash in his wallet at all. Whatever had prompted his murder had clearly been something personal.  
  
Ryo Nishikido had known his killer.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.**  
  
  
“Thank you, detective.” Said the woman tearfully, wrinkling the envelope containing the photo evidence of her husband and his mistress. “I still can’t believe-…”  
  
“Here.” Satoshi offered her a handkerchief and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”  
  
She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with the white cloth. “No, it’s better that I know the truth.” She took a deep breath, composing herself before getting to her feet. “Thank you.”  
  
Satoshi nodded, standing and seeing her to the office door. “Good night, Ma’am.” Once she’d left the waiting area behind, he sighed and turned his gaze to the clock. It was already half past ten. He sighed again, heavily.  
  
“Long day, Mr. Ohno?” Spoke up their secretary, and she looked just as worn out as he felt.  
  
“I think we can call it a night.” He answered, bothered that he’d had to hang behind and close up an adultery case while Jun went to get what information he could about Nishikido from the police. “I doubt Jun’s coming back here tonight.”  
  
Satoshi went back into the office while she gathered her coat and purse, putting on his own outer garments and tidying up the jumbled clutter on his desk. She was gone by the time he stepped out into the hallway and locked the door behind him.  
  
The hall and stairwell were poorly lit. The bulbs were dim and the corners were full of shadows. The stairs creaked and groaned as he descended, hurrying down to the ground floor and out through the doors to the street. He was met with a rush of fresh air, and a figure sitting with his back to him on the curb. The man was hunched terribly, holding a cigarette that was almost burned to the filter in one hand, while the other repeatedly raised his watch towards his eyes.  
  
Satoshi only spared the man a brief glance and turned to the left. His apartment was a couple blocks from the office, and he didn’t own an automobile, but the weather was nice and he wouldn’t mind the walk.  
  
“Oh!” Came an exclamation from behind him when he’d not taken more than a couple steps. He turned to see that the man had heard his footfalls and gotten up from the curb. “I was waiting for you, Detective.” The man said. The breeze ruffled his short dark hair around his head, and Satoshi squinted to recognize the curve of his lips and the moles dotting his pale skin.  
  
“…Mr. Ninomiya?” Satoshi frowned, taking a step closer to the man.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He said, dropping his cigarette and toeing it out beneath a scuffed shoe. “I know this is completely out of the blue…”  
  
“What are you doing out here?” Satoshi questioned, not missing Ninomiya’s tense posture. “You could have come in.”  
  
“I was hoping to catch you alone…” He wrung his hands. “Your partner didn’t seem as friendly as you.”  
  
The detective’s frown deepened, not sure what friendliness had to do with anything.  
  
“…I’m sorry.” Ninomiya apologized, noticing Satoshi’s confusion. He took a step closer. “You gave me your card so I could contact you. I don’t know if I have any useful information… but I thought maybe you could help me.”  
  
“With what?” Satoshi asked, trying not to be unnerved by the other man’s closeness. They were almost the same height, and less than a foot apart from each other.  
  
Ninomiya bit his lip; his eyes were dark and piercing. “…I’m afraid.” He said softly, his voice almost no more than a drawn-out breath, and Satoshi could smell the cigarette he’d been smoking mingling with the musky scent of his aftershave. Ninomiya ran his tongue over the lip he’d just abused with his teeth, lowered his head and looked up through his eyelashes. “I’ll answer whatever questions I know the answers to, but I need a place to spend the night.” His eyes darted around nervously, and he picked at his gnawed fingernails. “Please, Detective.” He pleaded, shivering visibly when the breeze blew again.  
  
Satoshi looked around too, prepared to see psychotic killers closing in on them from all directions, but there were no suspicious characters visible. Across the street a couple walked arm in arm, in the lit windows of apartments families could be seen going through the motions of their nightly routines, an automobile puttered by and lit up Ninomiya’s face in the headlights. He looked ghostly under the brief, harsh, lighting.  
  
“… First tell me who, or what, you’re hiding from.” The detective demanded, unnerved by the situation despite their seemingly harmless surroundings. He felt too exposed out in the street, and longed for the safety of locked doors, closed curtains, and four solid walls.  
  
Ninomiya swallowed slowly, the breeze tossed his hair, and the faintest flush appeared in his cheeks. His gaze was penetrating, odd shadows lurked beneath his brow bone, in the hollows of his cheeks and beneath his thin, pursed, lips, but Satoshi couldn’t read his expression. Ninomiya waited for the moment of dead silence after the wind had passed them by before he answered the question. “... My boss.”  
  
Satoshi shivered.  
  
  
\--  


  
 **In The Bowery, “Skid Row”, on the corner of Ludlow and East Houston Street.**  
  
  
Jun chomped off a mouthful of rye bread and roast beef, chewing it rigorously as he watched a familiar figure climb out of a taxicab on Houston. He swallowed as Satoshi stepped up onto the sidewalk, looking around at the Delicatessen on the corner and the small crowd milling out of its doors. Jun crumpled the wrapping of his sandwich around his supper’s remains and chucked it into the trash bin a few feet away, raising his free arm to catch his partner’s attention.  
  
Satoshi smiled sheepishly, jogging across the distance between them with his hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry I kept you waiting, Jun.”  
  
Jun turned, letting Satoshi fall into step beside him as he started trudging down the dark sidewalk of Ludlow, leaving the bustle of Houston Street and Katz’s Delicatessen behind. ‘Landscape I’m Seeing’ Productions would supposedly be filming some night scenes along that stretch of narrow street that evening. “You didn’t show up at the office this morning, and you didn’t answer your phone.” He frowned. “I had to leave for Brighton Beach without you.”  
  
“Yeah, I got your message. Sorry, I was up late, and then I overslept.” He sighed and then turned to Jun curiously. “Did the Nishikido family give us anything useful to work with?”  
  
Jun’s frown darkened. “No, not at all. They can’t think of anybody who would have a grudge against him. And now I’ve upset a still-grieving family by implying that their son’s unfortunate murder might have been premeditated.” He shook his head at himself reproachfully. “And it was a damn long drive too.”  
  
“I guess that explains why we’re harassing the film crew again.” Satoshi grumbled. “All we’ve got is Sakurai to go by.”  
  
Jun turned his gaze to him, one eyebrow raised. “Not just Sakurai. He _and_ Ninomiya were the last people to see Mr. Nishikido alive.”  
  
“I think Ninomiya’s just another victim.” Satoshi countered with a crease in his brow. “He showed up at the office last night, too afraid to go home because Sakurai was looking for him.”  
  
“You were with Ninomiya last night?” Jun exclaimed in an undertone. “Kazunari Ninomiya?”  
  
Satoshi nodded. “I let him stay at my place, and he-“  
  
“Ohno.” Jun stopped dead in his tracks, expression dark and disbelieving. “Are you crazy? He’s part of our investigation. You can’t just let him into your-“  
  
Satoshi fixed him with a serious look. “He was really scared, Jun. He had nowhere else to go.” He lowered his voice; sure they were catching looks from the few passersby within earshot. “What should I have done? Sent him back to Sakurai without caring if that meant he’d end up dead or not?”  
  
“Did he say Sakurai was trying to kill him? Because for all you know they were just having a little lover’s quarrel, and you’ve gone and gotten dragged into the middle of it.”  
  
“No, he fell asleep before he could give me details, but he was shaking like a leaf in his sleep. He looked like a scared kid cured up on my couch”  
  
“He’s no kid.” Jun warned. “Hell, he’s no younger than I am.”  
  
“Jun.” Ohno said firmly. “There’s something going on there. You don’t get wracked with nightmares because your boyfriend’s a little bothered with you. You said yourself that Sakurai was suspicious. We already know he’s got one dark secret to hide from the public, Ninomiya is evidence of that, but what if there’s something darker and messier?”  
  
“Sakurai is suspicious because he didn’t want us to know about Nishikido, but I highly doubt that he _killed_ him.” Jun reasoned. “Maybe Sakurai’s more twisted than we know, sure, but he doesn’t have a motive for killing Nishikido. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be the murderer.”  
  
“It would hurt his business, you’re right about that. But if he flew into a rage about something, Nishikido might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  
  
Jun shook his head and began walking again. “You’re trying to paint him like an out of control monster now, simply based on the fact that the assistant he’s having an illicit relationship with has _nightmares_. You don’t even know what the nightmares were about.”  
  
“I’m going way out on a limb here, I know that. But Jun, if it’s possible-…”  
  
“I’m humoring the idea,” Jun conceded, “but think about this for a second, will you? If Sakurai had killed Nishikido, then why the paranoia about protecting his other actors? He’s spending money to have them protected, money he obviously cares immensely about, but why would he bother if he was the person he was protecting them from?”  
  
Satoshi frowned and worried his lip. “… You’re right about that.” He admitted. “The only explanation would be that it’s an elaborate attempt to appear innocent…”  
  
Jun nodded. “Or that he honestly _didn’t_ do it.” He paused at the intersection of Stanton Street before crossing. Ahead, they could hear a voice yell ‘Action!’ and then the roaring of an engine. “In any case, you should talk to Mr. Ninomiya again.”  
  
On the street a couple buildings ahead, a van screeched to a halt just long enough to shove a bound and bloody body out of the door before roaring off again. “Cut!” Sakurai yelled, and then the detectives’ view was blocked by the camera crew closing in for a closer shot of the victim struggling on the sidewalk. “Remember, you’re in so much pain you’re almost delirious.” They could still hear Sakurai explaining, sounding impassioned as he gave the actor directions. “You’re terrified, you’re frustrated, and you feel completely helpless. Focus on that sense of helplessness. Good, good. Roll camera!”  
  
Behind them came a soft gasp, and the two detectives turned. Ninomiya was staring at them with a creased brow and wide eyes, frozen in the process of carrying a tray of coffees onto the set. “…You shouldn’t be here.” He hissed, snapping out of his surprise and approaching them. He caught a passing make-up artist by the arm and handed her the coffees. “Bring these to the director for me? Tell him I’ll be back in a minute.”  
  
She took them with a confused frown, balancing them awkwardly on her arm.  
  
“We’re here on business.” Jun explained.  
  
Ninomiya didn’t look at all pleased. “Do you realize that every time you harass my boss you make things hard for _all_ of us?”  
  
“How so?” Jun pried, interested. “Does he lose his temper? Yell? Push you around?”  
  
“No,” Ninomiya looked taken aback. “It just puts him in a terrible tense mood, and it makes the filming go badly. He said it’s hard to get into the spirit of filmmaking when his set is being treated like a crime scene.”  
  
“You’d think that would improve the mood, seeing as this is a crime picture…”  
  
“Detective, I don’t know why you’re prying into this, but somebody _died_ , you know. It’s upsetting for people if you make light of it… People will be offended.”  
  
“It’d be bad for business, right? I get it.” Jun nodded. “Your boss doesn’t want bad publicity around the film. Is that why he covered it up?”  
  
“Covered it--…?!” Ninomiya exclaimed, looking scandalized. “He’s not covering anything up. What could he possibly _be_ covering up?”  
  
Jun gave Satoshi a pat on the shoulder. “You handle him. I’m going to find Sakurai.”  
  
“Wait, please don’t bother him tonight!” Ninomiya begged, looking alarmed. Satoshi had to catch his arm to keep him from chasing after the other detective. “The shoot’s going well today!”  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him you tried to stop me.” Jun called over his shoulder as he ambled away.  
  
“… We should talk about last night.” Satoshi said after a long moment of silence.  
  
Ninomiya turned back to face him, looking frustrated but worn out. “I’m sorry I showed up out of nowhere like that.”  
  
“You never did explain why.” Satoshi pointed out. Ninomiya was silent, so he glanced towards the noisy, bustling, film set. “…Will they miss you if you disappear for a little bit?” He asked, and then gestured to the relatively empty and quiet stretch of street behind them. “We could go for a walk.”  
  
Ninomiya considered this for a long moment and then nodded, albeit hesitantly. “All right. But not for too long.”  
  
Satoshi bought them each a coffee at the shop around the corner on Stanton, and they continued walking East as they began to talk.  
  
“… I’m from Jersey.” Ninomiya started. I moved over to Manhattan when I was twenty-one, back in 1934. I loved the film industry, see? I was infatuated with it. I thought I’d have a better chance of makin’ it in the movies if I came across the bridge, since I couldn’t afford to go to Hollywood.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking pensive and a little lost in his thoughts. “When you’re 21, you’re still a stupid kid. It’s worse than being a kid, because you _think_ you’re a grown up. You don’t realize how naïve you are…” He raised his gaze and narrowed his eyes down one of the South-running streets they passed. “I lived not too many blocks from here, a little deeper into the Bowery. I was having a hard time getting work in any pictures, and I was barely scraping by with a job serving drinks in a-… well, in an unsavory sort of club a block from my apartment. Then one of the regulars approached me with an offer to be the male lead in a picture his friend was doing, said he thought I’d be good for the role… To make a long story short, it turned out it wasn’t a _legal_ sort of picture –if you know what I mean.” His lip curled wryly. “I did it anyway, though. I needed the cash. I actually ended up doing three during the fall of that year. And then in ’35, I managed to get a part in a real deal picture. It was still a little wild, though, and it never made it past the censorship of the production code.  
  
“And then I landed a tiny role in Sho Sakurai’s first production. He’d just inherited his father’s company and fortune, and he was struggling to make a name for himself in the industry with this picture. I only had two lines in the whole movie, but somehow I managed to meet him on the set and have a conversation with him…” He swallowed another mouthful of his coffee and paused for a moment before continuing. “And surprise, surprise. He’d happened to see a couple of my ‘first pictures’. You could say we bonded. Well, the both of us were trying to fit in somewhere, and our personalities got along all right. By the time the film wrapped up and went to cinemas, we were pretty much friends. And that’s our story.”  
  
Satoshi raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t explain why you told me you were afraid of him last night. How you got to work for him, or why you two are-…Well, --”  
  
“Sleeping together?” Ninomiya filled in, ignoring the detective’s mildly flustered reaction. “I don’t really remember if I slept with him before or after he offered me a job as his assistant. I don’t think it matters what happened first. I did both for the same reason: because I knew he liked me.”  
  
Satoshi frowned. “And you didn’t feel the same?”  
  
He shook his head. “I still don’t.” He paused, studying the detective’s surprised expression with an unreadable one of his own. “…You probably think I’m heartless. It’s true, I let him hire me and bed me because I realized how much of a liking he’d taken to me, and I knew that he was going to be a big name. That movie was a hit, and almost every film he’s done since has been as well. You can understand what I was thinking. The closer I was to him, the better chances I thought I would have to break into the acting world. He was a valuable connection, my ticket to stardom, so I could put up with him showing up at my apartment at night and going back to his normal life during the day. I didn’t mind giving him what he wanted, because I figured I’d get what _I_ wanted in the end.”  
  
“So you were only ever using him.”  
  
Ninomiya nodded, slowing to a stop. “But I was blinded… I put up with him because I wanted fame so badly, I didn’t care what I had to do to get it…” He paused. “But he’s never even treated me well. It’s like… I’m his pet. Locked up and fetching this or that for him, running here and there at his beck and call. I’ve never been rewarded for my years of loyalty to him, and it’s been years since he treated me like he cared. I’m just convenient, and with every year my novelty is fading. I don’t want to give up on my dream, but I’m tired, Detective. I don’t want to play this charade any longer.”  
  
“But then why not leave?” Satoshi questioned, frowning at the depiction of the twisted relationship. “You could find work elsewhere. If he doesn’t value your relationship anymore, he should be willing to let you go.”  
  
Ninomiya shook his head fervently. “No, that’s why I’m scared. He doesn’t treat me like something he cares for, because he treats me like something he _owns_. I’m scared of what he might do if I tried to leave. He’s rough as it is, Detective.” He said and then hesitated before pushing up the sleeve of his coat, revealing a small collection of fading bruises and healing scrapes. “Pets that try to run away get punished if they’re caught.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“Mr. Sakurai.” Jun greeted, and then continued before the suddenly wary producer/director could complain. “You seem like you’re enjoying this scene, aren’t you?”  
  
“… It’s a climactic part of the film.” Sakurai explained tersely. “And it’s turning out well. Can I help you with anything this time?”  
  
“I want to clarify something. You were in your office the night Ryo Nishikido died.”  
  
“Yes,” He answered, sounding exasperated, “I worked late.”  
  
“With Mr. Ninomiya.”  
  
“…Yes.”  
  
“And are you sure that you were working on something ‘decent’? Because, in my experience, you and Ninomiya have been known to get up to inappropriate behavior when left alone in there. Correct?”  
  
Sakurai paled, and his gaze flickered around nervously. “…Detective,” He started, taking a few steps away from the crowd. “I assumed you’d have enough tact not to bring up that incident. You must realize that my career, my _life_ , would be ruined if it got out that I—… that I was—“  
  
“Can I assume, then, that Mr. Nishikido was tactless enough not to keep his mouth shut?”  
  
“E-Excuse me?” The producer spluttered, looking thoroughly thrown off by that comment.  
  
“The story was that he came into your office that night to tell you he was leaving. Did he walk in on something he shouldn’t have? If he had, of course, you would need to shut him up before he ruined you. I understand.”  
  
Sakurai gaped at him, completely aghast. “Are-… Are you trying to suggest that _I_ killed him?”  
  
Jun shrugged. “Did you?”  
  
The producer gaped for a moment longer before letting out a hesitant chuckle, as if he thought Jun might even be joking. “…Why would I do that? That-… That doesn’t even make sense. He was one of my leading actors. I’m not crazy enough to kill one of my own leads.”  
  
“Not even if it would save your career from ruin? Maybe he was trying to blackmail you. Was he asking for a higher salary, Mr. Sakurai? I could reason it. Replacing one actor would be easier than losing your career and having your name besmirched in the industry.”  
  
“But I didn’t kill-…” Sakurai began, starting to sound upset by the allegations. He glanced at their surroundings again and then pulled the detective aside, and under the awning of a dilapidated café. “If you plan to accuse me of murder based on completely out-there speculations and _no_ proof-“  
  
“I don’t really think you killed him.” Jun announced. “I doubt it. But, I’m fairly convinced that you have something to do with this case. I don’t believe he was mugged. I think it was set up to look like a mugging, and I think you have something to do with that. Don’t you?”  
  
Again, Sakurai was struck momentarily speechless. “…Why? Why would I do _that_?” He demanded to know, but he looked and sounded uncertain this time.  
  
Jun grinned. “Because, you’re trying to protect this film. You probably don’t know who killed him, but you think he was targeted because he was in your production. That’s why you have hired security people to tail your stars. You made his murder look like a mugging to take the negative press away from focusing on the truth, because the truth would make your picture look bad… How am I doing here? Close? Hitting the nail on the head?” He chuckled; Sakurai was ghostly pale and practically buzzing with tension. “What’s the truth, Mr. Sakurai? What facts about his death have you been keeping to yourself?”  
  
Sakurai took a deep breath, and when he let it out his whole body sagged. He leaned back against the brick wall of the little entranceway they were crammed in. His gaze fell, and his shoulders slumped. “… If you’re right about what I’ve done, will I go to jail?” He asked quietly, and Jun thought he sounded like a broken man.  
  
“I’m not a cop, really, so I can’t be bothered with that.” He answered. “I just want to find the murderer.”  
  
Sakurai sighed shakily. “… He wasn’t mugged. I found his body in the studio when I was leaving late that night, and I didn’t want people to start speculating that a member of the cast or crew had done it, so I… I put his body in my car, and dumped him in that alley. I emptied his wallet because I thought it would make it look less suspicious…” He sounded tearful.  
  
“You have no idea who could have done it?” Jun asked.  
  
Sakurai shook his head slowly. “No, Ninomiya and I were in my office for most of the night, so we didn’t see who else was around or had left. Somebody could have come in off the street and killed him, if they wanted to. The light was on in the room where he’d been practicing his script, and I saw him when I went to turn it off. I told Ninomiya to go on ahead, and waited until I was the only one left before I decided to deal with it.” He choked a little, and raised his watery gaze to the detective’s. “I feel horrible about it, you know. I think it’s been driving me crazy. You said you could justify killing an actor to protect my career… but I can’t. _This_ is bad enough.”  
  
Jun nodded, feeling like he should try to comfort the man, but not having the faintest notion of how to go about it. “Thanks for your cooperation this time.” He said instead, giving the producer an awkward pat on the arm. “I probably won’t harass you anymore while you’re filming.” He walked away, and behind him he heard Sakurai give a dry, humorless, laugh.  
  
The crew seemed to be packing up the equipment. The hour was late, and the shoot was over. Everyone looked tired and busy, and none of them spared him more than a second glance as he weaved through the crowd in search of Satoshi and Ninomiya. They were nowhere to be seen, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d taken off together. He scowled, worried about the company his partner was starting to keep.  
  
“Detective Matsumoto!” Exclaimed an exuberant voice to his left, disrupting his train of thought. Jun nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned towards the voice and came face to face with a bruised and bloodied mess. A second look determined that the mess was just on the person’s face, and was clearly all cosmetics.  
  
“Masaki.” He greeted simply, still trying to calm his racing heart rate. Two makeup girls caught up to the actor and continued swabbing away the mess on his face. He’d already changed into regular clothes, but from his head alone Jun recognized him from earlier. “So _you_ were the one getting tossed out of the van.”  
  
“Yeah, it was my first time doing my own stunt.” He laughed breathily. “It was the scene where the bad guys release me, after I’ve been kidnapped and beaten.”  
  
“I see that.” Jun nodded towards the red and purpled discoloration on his skin. “You were very realistic. I heard Mr. Sakurai was pleased with your performance.”  
  
“Was he?” Aiba beamed at the praise. “I’m glad!”  
  
Jun nodded awkwardly and glanced back across the crowd. Still no sign of Satoshi, and he was feeling too tired and satisfied with his new information to wait around any longer. “I have to get going, but it was nice to see you again.” Aiba reached out to shake his hand, warmly replying with similar pleasantries, but Aiba’s sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and Jun was distracted by the multiple long, red, marks on his tanned forearm. “Oh,” His gaze flickered to the makeup girls, “there’s still some makeup here…” He pointed.  
  
The girls both frowned down at the marks. Aiba looked too and then raised his eyes, crinkled with laughter, to Jun’s again. “No, those are just scratches.” He assured him.  
  
“…Scratches?” Jun repeated, brows pulling together.  
  
 _‘…the kid still fought back. There was dried blood under his nails…’_  
  
“Yeah, you know.” Aiba continued obliviously. “Those dogs you met last time, they jump up a lot… Don’t worry though,” Aiba reassured him happily. “Some of the scratches were deep, but they’re almost healed now.”  
  
Jun swallowed slowly, still frowning. The last of the gruesome makeup had been wiped away. Jun looked at Aiba’s soft doe eyes and the wide smile so full of warmth, and all it did was send a cold shiver through his bloodstream.  
  
“Good night, Mr. Aiba.” He muttered, turning on his heel and putting as much distance between himself and the other man as quickly as possible.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.**  
  
  
“Good afternoon.” Satoshi greeted, looking up from the paperwork on his desk as Jun entered the office.  
  
Jun frowned, snapping out of his thoughts at Satoshi’s voice. “You disappeared yesterday. …Were you out all night with Ninomiya?”  
  
Ohno shook his head, looking mildly affronted by Jun’s snappish tone. “No, we wandered away from the set and decided to call it a night. We took separate cabs… How did things go with Sakurai?”  
  
Jun sighed heavily. “Well, we have progress. He admitted to setting it up to look like a mugging. Apparently he found the body in the actual studio. So, I think it’s safe to say that we’re dealing with a fan or a co-worker, or else someone else who would have known he was working and that the studio was mostly unoccupied at that time… Other than that, we’re not much closer to finding a suspect.”  
  
“You don’t think Sakurai did it?” Satoshi frowned.  
  
Jun shook his head and then hummed thoughtfully. He lit up a cigarette and leaned against the front of his desk. “Did I mention to you that Nishikido managed to scratch his attacker—?“  
  
 _“Excuse me, Sir. You can’t-!“_ Called their secretary’s voice from the waiting room, just a moment before the office door burst open. Ninomiya was on the other side, looking red-faced and wild, and their secretary stood behind him looking concerned and apologetic. “Uh, you have a visitor, Detectives…” She said uncertainly as Ninomiya began stalking into the room.  
  
“Ninomiya?” Satoshi began, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. “What happened to you?”  
  
“That-that bastard is-“ He broke off, gasping for air as though he was on the edge of hyperventilating.  
  
“Easy!” Jun exclaimed, taking the cigarette from his mouth. “Calm down before you hurt yourself.”  
  
“How many- how many years, have I stuck with- h-him just to have him-?!”  
  
Satoshi came round the front of his desk and caught Ninomiya by the arm before he could collapse. The assistant’s eyes were bloodshot and red with angry, unshed tears. “Come on, we’ll go get some fresh air.”  
  
Jun followed them down to the sidewalk out front. Ninomiya stayed quiet, just breathing erratically, until Satoshi had sat him down on the curb. “Now then,” Jun began, exhaling a lungful of smoke. “What on earth is going on?”  
  
Ninomiya took a deep shuddering breath, hands clenched into fists in his lap. “Sho is-… he just announced to everyone today that- that he’s ‘done’. He’s calling off the movie, he’s giving up the company. I-… I can’t believe I stuck with him for so many years just to get _screwed over like this_.” He gasped in another deep breath, and Satoshi made an attempt to rub his back soothingly. “Worse! He has the guts to act like I should feel bad for him. Like he expected me to console him or something. I-… I stormed out. I couldn’t stand being there any longer.”  
  
“… Your relationship problems aside,” Jun spoke up, “How did the other cast and crew react?”  
  
Ninomiya shrugged helplessly. “Shocked, angry. People were stunned at first… and then they started complaining.”  
  
“Masaki Aiba?” Jun continued casually.  
  
Ninomiya frowned thoughtfully. “Masaki… Masaki got really upset. He said that this had finally been his chance to make it somewhere –lucky bastard-, and now everything he’d worked for was going to waste… He went on like that for awhile, and then said something about going to try and convince Sho to change his mind later. Something dramatic like that, he always seemed way more emotional than the average person… Why?”  
  
“And your reaction wasn’t dramatic or emotional?” Ohno teased gently, raising an eyebrow at the assistant.  
  
Ninomiya frowned. “I’m much more attached to this situation than he is though.”  
  
“Was Sakurai at the studio?”  
  
“He was. Don’t know if he’d bother hanging around though…”  
  
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later, Satoshi.” Jun dropped the cigarette, grinding it out beneath his heel as he strode away.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **537 West 20th Street, Sakurai’s office at the ‘Landscape I’m Seeing’ Productions Studio.**  
  
  
Outside the office window, the sun was sinking towards the Hudson. Jun had spent the afternoon going from one place to another. Sakurai had not been at his office, nor had his receptionist known where he went. Jun got Sakurai's home number from her and tried calling several times, but nobody would answer. Pressing the receptionist for more information, she said Aiba had come by earlier, there had been raised voices, and she thought the young actor had left in frustrated tears.  
  
Jun had next gone to Aiba’s apartment but found that he wasn’t home, and the landlord told him Aiba had given notice that he would have his things moved out before the end of the month. At a loss, Jun had decided to return to the production studio and dug around the office until he came across a certain security agent’s phone number. Thankfully, the man answered.  
  
“Toma Ikuta? This Private Detective Jun Matsumoto… I need to find Aiba, or Sakurai. As soon as possible.”  
  
Toma explained that Sakurai had called him off the job at the same time that he broke his big news to everyone else. Aiba had, indeed, been distraught.  
  
 _“When I left him, he said he was going to tie off some loose ends and give up on New York. Probably heading back to his hometown I guess.”  
  
“Tonight?”  
  
“I guess… that’s what it sounded like.”_  
  
Jun cursed, thanked the security agent as briefly and courteously as he could, and slammed the phone receiver into the stand. If Aiba was going back to Chicago, he had every intention of catching him before he got on that train.  
  
On the street outside, he ran to the corner of Eleventh Ave. and hailed the first cab that approached. “To Grand Central, please.” He panted, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
He could only hope Aiba’s loose ends had nothing to do with Sakurai disappearing.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.**  
  
  
“I’m glad you’re calmed down now.” Satoshi commented from his desk, watching Ninomiya watch the sunset through the window.  
  
Ninomiya turned and smiled at the detective. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to see my life clearly for the first time in a while. I know what options I have.”  
  
“Really? That’s good.”  
  
Ninomiya wandered back over and perched on the edge of the desk. “I don’t have to feel powerless anymore.” His lips curled again, showing a flash of bright white teeth. The dying sunlight lit the room in a fiery orange and gold color. It reflected bright in Ninomiya’s piercing eyes and off his pale skin, making his moles and the dark hair on his head stand out starkly in contrast.  
  
“I can’t understand why you ever let him control you. You don’t come off like the average fairy-type.”  
  
Ninomiya laughed sharply. “Well, I’m not. But kissing men isn’t so bad.”  
  
Satoshi raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”  
  
Ninomiya nodded. “It’s not really different from kissing a woman. Lips are lips, after all.”  
  
There was a long awkward pause. They both stared at each other, Satoshi attempting to avert his eyes several times but finding his gaze continued to return to that thin, curved, smile.  
  
“… Can I kiss you, Detective Ohno?” He asked quietly, leaning forward until the only thing keeping him from falling forwards onto the detective was the hand on the back of the chair Satoshi was sitting on.  
  
Satoshi didn’t dare answer the question. Ninomiya’s eyes, so close to his own, were closed and Satoshi felt his own fluttering to do the same. And then Ninomiya’s lips pressed against his, tentative for only a moment before pressing back again, slow but firm. He felt Ninomiya exhale against him, and parted his own lips a little, reaching a hand up to finger the collar of Ninomiya’s button up shirt. He tasted of cigarettes and sweat, his cheek was the slightest bit rough with stubble, and his kisses were strong and demanding. Kissing Ninomiya wasn’t much at all like kissing a woman, but it still wasn’t bad.  
  
The detective felt a little dazed by his findings when the other man pulled back and met his gaze. “I want to leave Sakurai, for good.” He murmured, reaching out to swipe a thumb gently across Satoshi’s bottom lip. The corner of Ninomiya’s mouth curled into a small smile before he spoke again. “Will you help me get some of my things from his house?” He asked softly. The sunlight reflected in his irises looked like fire. “I don’t want to go alone.”  
  
Ninomiya’s short fingers slipped into Satoshi’s hair, and there was no way the detective could even consider refusing him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **Grand Central Terminal**  
  
  
By the time he got out of the taxi and into the main concourse, the sun had already disappeared. The board of departures revealed that the Twentieth Century Ltd. Train, going from New York to Chicago, was already boarding at platform twelve.  
  
Jun cursed his luck and sprinted clear across the concourse, not caring if he looked like a madman.  
  
There was a line of people boarding when he burst onto the platform, panting and panicked. He ran his eyes over the figures in the crowd, but none caught his attention until he saw the end of a blood red umbrella poking out of someone’s suitcase. Jun jogged down the platform, reached out and grabbed the man by the shoulder.  
  
Masaki Aiba turned around with a soft gasp of surprise, his wide eyes were a little puffy, and his face looked weary without his usual grin. “Detective Matsumoto…?” He questioned, confused. “How did you know that I was-…?”  
  
Jun shook his head sadly. “I didn’t want to believe it. You seemed like the least likely sort, but it makes sense when I think about it. You had the motive all along, didn’t you?” He nodded to himself grimly, not letting himself be fooled or softened by Masaki’s wide-eyed expression of innocent confusion. “Getting Nishikido out of the picture gave you your opportunity of a lifetime. If he hadn’t died, you wouldn’t have gotten your chance… I’m right, aren’t I? You know I am.”  
  
Aiba looked horrified.  
  
“But now, everything you risked so much for is falling apart. Everything you planned is being unraveled.” Jun met Aiba’s eyes sternly. The actor’s eyes were welling with tears, but Jun had to remember that Aiba _was_ an actor, and also possibly very unstable. “Why are you leaving Aiba?” He wheedled, stepping into the taller man’s personal space. The platform was emptying as more people boarded the train. “What’s the hurry to take off? Is this your routine? You try to create your little dream world, and when it comes crashing down you try again somewhere else?” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you running from?”  
  
Fat tears spilled over Aiba’s cheekbones, and he blinked furiously in an attempt to be rid of them. “I-…” He began, choked up. “I know it’s cowardly, but it’s really hard to come so c-close, and then have it all taken away from you…” He took a deep breath as though it would calm himself. “I thought it might be a good idea to go back to Chicago and try to start over.”  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Jun announced.  
  
Aiba blinked in confusion for a moment. “But…w-why not? Why do you care?”  
  
It was Jun’s turn to blink. He’d thought that they were on the same page for a while now. “I’m looking for Sho Sakurai, what have you done with him?”  
  
Aiba frowned. “I haven’t done anything… I went to his office this afternoon and begged him to reconsider giving up, but he said that he had too many personal issues to deal with.” His frown deepened. “Has something happened to him? A lot of the crew and cast members were mad at him… but I left after I talked to him.”  
  
Jun frowned too. “But-… Then, did you kill Ryo Nishikido?”  
  
Aiba’s confused frown morphed into an expression of shock and horror. “Of course not! I’ve never even met him!”  
  
“…Come with me. I need to rethink everything.” He grabbed Aiba’s arm and began leading him off of the platform and back across the concourse.  
  
The only evidence he’d had to go by were the scratches on Aiba’s arms and that he had a motive that worked, but the more he thought about it… the motive didn’t work after all. Jun considered this as the two of them piled into a cab with Aiba’s luggage. “516 West 47th, please.” He said before turning to the man beside him. “…Masaki, you said that the script said Tommy looked nothing like you do, didn’t you?”  
  
Aiba nodded slowly, trying to catch on. “He was supposed to be kind of withdrawn, with pale skin, dark hair… not too muscular… Um…” He pouted thoughtfully. “Ghost-like, was how they described him.”  
  
“…I can see Ryo playing a role like that, but why cast you?” Jun wondered aloud after several minutes had passed. “Nobody would expect someone exactly the opposite of the character to step in. And there’s got to be plenty of creepy pale guys around that Sakurai could have picked from, it’s not like they’re hard to come by. Hell, Ninomiya could easily have—“ He stopped short, heart skittering in his chest.  
  
There was a long tense silence between them. To his right, Aiba was staring straight ahead with wide, shocked, eyes.  
  
“…I heard, on set once, that Ninomiya used to be an actor before he started working for Sakurai…” Aiba spoke up, voice tiny and wavering.  
  
Jun’s stomach felt like it had turned to lead, and he was shoving bills in the cabbie's hand before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **27 Sutton place, at Sho Sakurai’s townhouse.**  
  
  
The lights were off in the building. Satoshi frowned up at the darkened windows. “…Maybe he’s not home. We can come back tomorrow, I don’t mind.”  
  
Ninomiya reached into the flowerpot beside the door and, after a moment of digging around, pulled out a dirty silver key. He grinned triumphantly, brushed it off, and stuck it in the lock on the door.  
  
“Kazunari, wait.” Satoshi whispered. “We shouldn’t break in…”  
  
The door opened with a click, and Ninomiya stepped into the entryway. “Come on.” He hissed. “We’ll be quick.”  
  
Satoshi hesitated a moment longer before giving in and stepping into the house. It took a long minute to adjust to the darkness inside, and then he found Ninomiya had already wandered ahead into the large living area.  
  
“Wow…” Ninomiya mused quietly to himself. “This is nice.”  
  
Satoshi watched him crane his neck to look up the stairs before following him into the kitchen. “Has it changed since you were last here, or something?”  
  
Ninomiya frowned at him for a second before nodding. “Yeah.” He answered and flashed a smile. He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the dark, polished cupboards. “Nice place, isn’t it?”  
  
“Sure.” Satoshi agreed, uncomfortable with the whole situation. “What stuff did you need to get?”  
  
“Oh…” Ninomiya looked around and then suddenly began opening and closing drawers. They banged shut loudly when he shoved them closed, and then he found one full of silverware and jostled that one around. “Maybe something in here…”  
  
“Hey, hey!” Satoshi exclaimed, horrified at the noise. “Stop!” He grabbed the thinner man’s arms and prevented him from continuing, but in the silence afterwards clear footsteps could be heard on the level above them. Satoshi’s heart dropped into his stomach, and when he turned to Ninomiya, he was disturbed to find that the man had a faint smile on his lips. “Come on.” He demanded, pulling Ninomiya with him into the next room and ducking down on the floor to one side of the dining table.  
  
The footsteps descended the stairs and moved warily towards the kitchen before pausing. For a long moment Satoshi could hear nothing but his own pulse and Ninomiya’s breathing hot against his ear. And then the light in the kitchen turned on. Satoshi held his breath and peeked out from under the table; he could see Sakurai standing in the kitchen, frowning at the open drawers. Slowly, the ex-producer reached out and pulled a knife from the knife block on the counter.  
  
Satoshi felt all of his muscles tense with fear. Behind him Ninomiya had fallen still and silent too, or so he thought. Ninomiya suddenly leaned backwards, pushing a dining chair backwards on the floor to create a screeching noise. Satoshi felt nauseous with fright, but Ninomiya just laughed under his breath.  
  
Sakurai’s gaze had fixed in their direction, so Satoshi stood slowly, pulling Ninomiya up behind him. “… Hello, Mr. Sakurai.” He greeted awkwardly.  
  
Sakurai frowned at the detective, but his eyes widened when he saw Ninomiya. “…Kazunari?”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.**  
  
  
The secretary told them where Satoshi and Ninomiya had gone.  
  
“But why? Why would Satoshi agree? Ninomiya was so mad at Sakurai when I left…”  
  
“He calmed down after you left. But I was told they were going to Mr. Sakurai’s because Ninomiya wanted to get some of his belongings back from him before they separated.”  
  
Jun thought about that for a long moment.  
  
“…But that doesn’t make sense, does it?” Aiba spoke up suddenly with a frown.  
  
“How so?” Jun demanded to know.  
  
“Well, Mr. Sakurai’s married. And he has children, I think.” Aiba pointed out. “…Would Ninomiya leave his belongings there if his and Sakurai’s relationship was secret?”  
  
“It’s a set-up.” Jun growled, striding over to the phone on the secretary’s desk and dialing a number in. “Get me Sakurai’s address, right away.” He said to her before speaking into the phone. “Hi, this is Jun Matsumoto. Thank you…” He sighed, the secretary passed him a slip of paper with the address scrawled on it in pencil. “Sergeant,” He greeted the person on the phone. “You said I should tell you if there was murder involved in my investigations… Not yet, but you might want your boys to hurry over to 27 Sutton Pl. before that changes.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **27 Sutton place, at Sho Sakurai’s townhouse.**  
  
  
“He came to get his things.” Satoshi spoke up, but Sakurai’s confused expression only intensified.  
  
“And to tell you that I’m not going to see you anymore.” Ninomiya chimed in.  
  
Sakurai looked horrified by this news. “What?... Why?! Because I don’t want to run the company anymore?”  
  
“Yes.” Ninomiya answered seriously. “And because I’ve never loved you.”  
  
Sakurai looked really shocked and heartbroken for someone who wasn’t in love, and Satoshi was actually feeling a little bad for him despite it all. Ninomiya was behaving strangely, and not trying at all to soften the blows he was dealing.  
  
“But, Kazunari-…” Sakurai started, sounding helpless and confused.  
  
“You’re useless, Sho.” Ninomiya continued harshly. “You can’t do anything right, and I’m sick of putting up with you for no reason. I have Ohno now. I don’t need you anymore.”  
  
“Hey, wait.” Satoshi spoke up, shocked at the sudden turn. “I’m not a part of this.”  
  
But Ninomiya ignored him, pressed his body flush against the detective's and his lips to the side of Satoshi’s neck. Satoshi could feel him smiling against his skin before he pulled away.  
   
“You’re kidding me. For no reason? For no _reason_?!” Sakurai exclaimed, face turning red with anger. He stepped forward, kitchen knife still in hand. “For years now I’ve been nothing but good to you, and you know it!”  
  
“So what if you have?! I’m still leaving.” Ninomiya announced before leaning in and whispering into Satoshi’s ear: “He has a knife! Get your gun out.”  
  
Satoshi reached for his holster as a warning. “Calm down, Mr. Sakurai. We can just relax-“  
  
“I don’t want to hear anything from you! Stay out of this!” Sakurai spat angrily, stepping forward and prompting Satoshi to actually draw the gun.  
  
“Shoot him.” Ninomiya hissed in Satoshi’s ear. “He’s dangerous. Just shoot him.”  
  
“Sure, Detective. Do it! Why not!” Sakurai joined in, sounding mildly hysterical about the whole situation. “I don’t even care anymore! Just shoot me!” He roared, advancing towards them and brandishing the knife. “Shoot me!” He shouted, voice cracking. He reached out with his free hand in an effort to grab the hand holding the gun. "Shoot-!"  
  
Satoshi pulled the trigger and the gun fired with a loud crack.  
  
Sakurai went down on the kitchen tiles with a cry of pain. Upstairs somewhere, a child screeched in fright, and Ninomiya watched the blood pooling on the ground with bright-eyed fascination.  
  
Sakurai groaned weakly, gasping in pain and reaching for his leg.   
  
“What? Why?!” Ninomiya demanded, rounding on the detective. “You didn’t kill him!”  
  
“The goal of coming here wasn’t to kill him!” Satoshi exclaimed shakily, getting on his knees to turn Sakurai over and put pressure on the wound just above his knee.  
  
Ninomiya suddenly lunged for the dropped knife. Satoshi saw the movement from the corner of his eye and had to tackle him onto the ground. The knife slipped across the back of his hand as they struggled but he ignored the pain, pinning Ninomiya to the floor and prying the weapon free from his fingers.  
  
In the distance, they could hear sirens approaching.  
  
“But look! Look at what he did!” Ninomiya tried yelling and wriggling loose, tugging on his sleeve with his teeth to get the detective's attention. His sleeves were cuffed at his elbows, leaving the old scratches and bruises on his forearms exposed. "I told you how he hurt me! You should be restraining him, not me!"  
  
"I've never-" Sakurai panted, pale and sweating. His hands were covered in blood where they were pressed on his bleeding wound. The fight had drained from him completely, and he looked the very picture of a broken man who'd lost everything. "You _know_ I've never done anything to hurt you!" He wheezed, shaking his head like he honestly couldn't understand why Ninomiya would treat him so cruelly. "I never would!"  
  
Satoshi was momentarily distracted by the emotional pain matching the physical in Sakurai's expression, and Ninomiya was able to catch him off guard by kneeing him in the back and scrambling loose.  
  
Sakurai gasped and tried to roll to the side as Ninomiya flung himself at him, screaming curses hoarsely and closing his hands around his throat. Sakurai struggled weakly to push him off, choking out "Kazunari" with the only breath he had. Ninomiya seemed almost possessed by his rage, still screeching an infuriated string of garbled words while hot tears seared down his cheeks.  
  
“Leave him!” Satoshi exclaimed, horrified by the change that had come over the scrawny man as he pulled Ninomiya off of Sakurai and pinned him on his stomach, arms twisted behind his back. “Just leave him alone! It's over!”  
  
Ninomiya cried out hysterically as he was restrained again. "Almost a decade!" He shouted, voice raw. "This is all your fault! None of this would have happened, Sho, if you had just given me a chance! You knew I could act! You knew I wanted that part! I would have been _perfect_ for that part!"  
  
"Kazunari," Sakurai rasped, "I couldn't. Those stag films you did could have ruined both of us if people recognized you."  
  
"Everybody knew how badly I wanted it!" Ninomiya continued, not listening to Sakurai's explanation. "Even that idiot Nishikido knew! He knew enough to rub it in my face, to tell me how 'obvious' it was that I wanted to be in his position! I couldn't take it!"  
  
"No..." Sakurai shook his head with despair as he realized where this was going. "You didn't-..."  
  
"If you had just given me a chance, none of this would have happened! None of this should have happened! _None of this should have happened!_ "  
  
Ninomiya was still sobbing the same thing over and over when the NYPD stormed the house accompanied by paramedics. Ninomiya was cuffed and dragged out to the waiting police cars while Sakurai was strapped to a stretcher.  
  
Satoshi ignored the medic trying to bandage his hand and the police officer asking him questions, instead intent on staggering outside. Sakurai was barely conscious and about to be loaded into an ambulance when Satoshi caught up with him. "Mr. Sakurai," He called uncertainly, not even sure what he wanted to say or if anything he _could_ say would make a difference. "... I'm sorry."  
  
Sakurai closed his eyes and was lifted out of the detective's sight.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 **516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.**  
  
  
 _“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding before. Thank you for helping me figure it out in the end.”  
  
With a wide smile and bright eyes, Aiba accepted the train ticket and slipped it into the pocket of his green tweed overcoat. “Thanks. I’m glad I met you, Detective.”_  
  
  
Jun stood in the window of his office staring out at the dark, rain-washed, street where earlier a red umbrella had bobbed out of sight. The rain hit the windowpane and dribbled down in thick rivulets, distorting his view of the city beyond.  
  
“Sakurai is recovering well. He’ll probably have a limp from now on, but he’ll survive. I don't think his marriage will though. His family is coping with the stress of overhearing everything... As for Satoshi, he's a little shaken but otherwise fine. His therapist thinks he’ll be ready to come back to work in a week or two, if he wants to.”  
  
“That’s good.” Jun nodded pensively. “…And Ninomiya?”  
  
“Trial’s the end of next week.” The sergeant answered. “He confessed to Ryo Nishikido’s murder… Doctors say he's sane. He was a real mess when we took him in, but not crazy. He hadn’t planned to kill Nishikido, but he was jealous and when Nishikido ribbed him about getting the job, he just snapped. Heat of the moment kind of thing. He said the guilt of what he’d done and knowing that Sakurai was also being eaten with guilt over covering it up messed him up a little bit over time.”  
  
Jun sighed and turned away from the window, digging around in his pocket for a cigarette and a match. “Well, at least the craziness of this one is getting us a lot of media attention.”  
  
Oguri rolled his eyes. “I was going to suggest you try taking it easy for awhile, but you seem just as hard-hearted and unaffected as you usually are.”  
  
Jun stuck a cigarette between his teeth and grinned around it while he lit up. “What makes you so sure I _have_ a heart, Shun?”  
  
The sergeant chuckled and his smile softened. “Nobody paid you to take that crazy case, Jun. But you did it anyway.”  
  
Jun shrugged. “Sometimes it’s worth it to be paid in fame instead of cash. You hear they might make a picture about us?”  
  
“Your character would never make it past the censorship.” Oguri retorted and then laughed. “Now, stop trying to be a tough guy for a minute and let me thank you.”  
  
“A thank you?” Jun raised his eyebrows. “Well that’s a first. Satoshi will be sorry he missed this.”  
  
“I’m sure he will.” Oguri straightened up and walked towards the door. “As always, _try_ to stay out of trouble please?”  
  
“Can’t make any promises, Sergeant.” Jun grinned crookedly. “Trouble tends to find me.”  
  
No sooner had the sergeant left and Jun sat behind his desk when the secretary appeared at the door. “Mr. Matsumoto, there’s a lady here who wants your help. She says her brother's eloped with a servant girl from their household, and she wants you to track him down.”  
  
“A servant girl?” Jun raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like deep pockets.”  
  
“Looks it, Sir.” The Secretary affirmed. “Think she’s wearing a real fur coat. It’s quite over the top, actually.”  
  
“An eloping brother, huh.” Jun considered this and let his grin spread across his face once more. “Sounds like trouble… Send her in.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
END  
  



End file.
